


Some Fairytale Bliss

by PorcupineGirl



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Head Injury, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, meet-annoyed?, what is the opposite of a meet-cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-19 03:23:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19967239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcupineGirl/pseuds/PorcupineGirl
Summary: Jack is annoyed when a civilian refuses to leave the scene as a supervillain approaches. He can't very well turn intoThe Captainwhere this guy can see him, and it's putting them all in danger.He's even more annoyed when the civilian turns out to be the new superhero in town.





	Some Fairytale Bliss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soliduck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soliduck/gifts).



> I'm working on a couple longer fics and needed a break, so I asked for Zimbits meet-cute AU prompts. This was the result of solidork's prompt:
> 
> _Jack: How can I get this cute bystander to leave this dangerous situation without giving away that I'm a superhero? Meanwhile Bitty is thinking the exact same thing._
> 
> The funnest part was coming up with everyone's superpowers and superhero names, even if only a few of them actually get used in battle. :D
> 
> There will be some general handwaving of emergency room procedures. Chalk all of it up to the presence of superheroes, and any mishandling of Bitty's concussion to the fact that he has somewhat super healing.
> 
> Title from Coldplay's _Something Just Like This._

_Shit_.

Jack grabs the little used bookstore's sole employee by the shoulder as the ground trembles beneath them.

"Is there a back door out of here?"

"What?" The kids stares at him, eyes wide and panicky. "Yeah?"

"Okay, you're going to lead everyone out of it, got it?"

The kid nods.

"What's your name?"

"Scott?"

"Everyone out the back door!" Jack shouts to the bookstore at large. "This is Scott, follow him, he'll show you the way out."

Most of the seven or eight customers make a beeline for Scott, who is now opening the swinging panel in the checkout counter to let them into the back of the store. One couple heads for the front door, instead.

"No, don't!" Jack grabs their shoulders just in time. The source of the shaking—the thundering footsteps of Volcanor's genetically-modified pet dinosaur—comes into view just then. "See? It's dangerous that way, go out the back."

The couple nod, not looking back as they run for the back of the store.

He watches them make their way to the stock room door, waiting for them to disappear through it and the door to shut behind them so he can activate—

"You should get out of here, too," comes a voice from beside him. His head whips around. The short, thin blonde man he'd noticed in the cookbook section earlier is watching Volcanor out the large shop windows. Jack frowns; he was sure he saw the man moving toward the back a minute ago.

"What are you doing out here?" he hisses. "Can't you see what's coming? Do you want to get killed? Go!"

The man narrows his eyes at Jack. "I could say the same to you. That was a smart move, getting everyone out the back, but you need to take your own advice. _Now_ , come on." He reaches out and tugs on Jack's arm.

Jack shakes his head. "You go on ahead, I'll be right behind you. I just want to… make sure there's no one in the parking lot."

"Don't worry about it," the man says, "you can see from here, there's nobody there, look. Now get going!"

Jack grabs the man's arm back, tugs _him_ away from the window. "I'm serious. You. Will. Die. Go!"

"I can handle myself, thank you," the man says, bristling. "I don't need a knight in shining armor trying to impress me. Especially since you're gonna get yourself _killed_ doing it!"

"Oh, for the love of—I'm not—" Jack glances back out the window and clenches his jaw when he sees how close Volcanor is. "Fine! Do what you want, I need to go."

" _Thank you!_ " the man says, but when Jack disappears behind a bookcase instead of the back counter, he shouts, "What the hell are you doing? Ugh, I don't have time for this."

Jack has already hit the button to activate his costume. The henley and jeans he's wearing morph into spandex, a hood climbing up the back of his head and around to cover half his face. Sure, if the guy sees him he'll know he was Jack a minute ago, but he doesn't know Jack's name and Jack has more important things to worry about than his secret ident—

"Oh, for pity's sake, why didn't you just say so?"

Jack whips around to see the man standing just a few feet away, behind the same bookcase. Just as Jack looks at him, the man hits a button on his own watch. As Jack watches, his clothes undergo a similar transition; his costume is mostly white, with blue lightning bolts on the chest and the boots that his shoes have morphed into.

"Who the fuck—"

The man is running back to the front of the store before Jack can even finish his question.

"Can you fly?" the unknown superhero asks Jack as he pushes the door open.

"Yeah, can you?"

"No," the man says. "So you go on up and work on knocking him off this stupid dinosaur steed thing and I'll do what I can down here to stop the dinosaur from going anywhere."

Jack bristles at being told what to do, but the man is already out the door and Jack has no choice but to follow him. Given that Volcanor is already shooting his lava beams at the park next door, he also has no choice but to fly up and do exactly what the man suggested.

On his way up, he freezes the lava Volcanor's already sprayed across the parking lot, along with the tree that some of the lava set on fire.

Volcanor laughs when he sees Jack and tries to hit him with a lava beam, but Jack's far too quick for him, dodging and freezing the beam in one move.

"I know your friends are out of town, Captain," Volcanor sneers with obvious glee. "Thought things were quiet, left you all alone to protect the city, did they? You all really thought it would take me longer than that to break out of prison?"

Jack shoots an ice ray at Volcanor's stupid mouth, but Volcanor seems to have gotten a new toy—he lifts a shield and it deflects the ice ray, sending it skittering off to freeze some unsuspecting bird or power line. Shit.

Jack hears a strange noise to his left, somewhere between a shrill laugh and a howler monkey's shriek. Before he can turn toward it, something furry is flinging itself off the dinosaur's head at him—another of Volcanor's genetically modified pets, no doubt. It grabs Jack's arm and hangs off it, digging in sharp nails that luckily can't pierce his ultra-strong suit. He shakes his arm, but it holds tight—he looks away just long enough to freeze another lava beam—but then the monkey sinks its teeth into his arm, and Volcanor must have done _something_ to its saliva because to Jack's horror, it starts to dissolve the fabric of his suit. Within seconds, he can feel those sharp teeth digging into his skin, and it's all he can do to keep fighting off the lava beams Volcanor is flinging his way with one hand while he screams in pain as the monkey bites his other arm.

If he could use his right hand, he could pry the monkey's mouth open no problem, but if he does that he'll give Volcanor the opening he needs to spray lava all over the bookstore or the park.

He'd forgotten all about the other superhero, the one who has apparently been hard at work finding a way to help from the ground, so he's as surprised as Volcanor when the dinosaur stumbles and then falls right over. Jack pries the monkey off his arm and gets it by the scruff of its neck before flying down. Volcanor has fallen out of his perch on the dinosaur's back, and just as he's sitting up the skinny superhero in white lunges at him, punching him across the face before pulling handcuffs seemingly out of nowhere and cuffing him.

"He'll try to melt them!" Jack shouts, annoyed that whoever this is would even try that when he's just _seen_ that Volcanor can shoot lava out of his hands.

"No he won't!" the man says with a laugh, and before Jack's very eyes, he touches the cuffs and they—along with Volcanor's hands—freeze solid blue, covered in frost. Jack looks around, and notices for the first time how the man managed to trip up the dinosaur—its large feet, too, are frozen solid. It must have take him a minute to get the ice to spread through enough of the dino's tissue to cause it problems.

"Who the fuck _are you?"_ Jack demands, shaking the monkey at the other superhero. The monkey shrieks in protest.

"You're welcome," the man shoots back. "What are you gonna do with that?"

Jack glances at the monkey, which is still swinging its limbs around, trying to get out of his grip. "I have a cage in my car, we've had to deal with Volcanor's little pets before. Now, _who are you?_ Where the fuck did you come from?"

"Atlanta, most recently," the man answers. "Sorry, my day job decided to transfer me up here the day after y'all's monthly superhero meeting, so I haven't gotten to meet anyone. I'm Bitty." He puts out a hand for Jack to shake. Jack ignores it.

"Bitty? What kind of superhero nickname is that?"

Bitty drops his hand and glares at Jack. "If I'm not mistaken, y'all have a hero here who goes by Shitty?"

"Point taken," Jack mutters. "I'm The Captain."

"I figured that much out," Bitty says, his eyes sweeping up and down Jack's costume. "I did do my research on y'all before I came up here. How else would I know when your meetings are?" Jack grits his teeth.

"Is ice your main power?" Jack asks, crossing his arms as best he can with the monkey still in his grip. "Because I'm not sure we need more of that on our team."

"Oh, don't go gettin' all territorial about powers," Bitty says dismissively. "I told you, my day job transferred me up here. I didn't sit at my computer looking for just the right superhero so I could swoop in and encroach on his territory. Anyhow, ice is secondary, I'm not that great at it, that's why it took me so long to bring the dino down. My main powers are speed and, well—"

Before Jack's eyes, he shrinks down to about a foot tall, then grows back to normal size.

"I guess your name makes sense, then," Jack admits. "So why don't you grow yourself any taller than that?"

"Excuse you!" Bitty put his hands on his hips. "Obviously my power is shrinking, not growing."

"Right," Jack says. He hears sirens in the distance. "It's about time," he mutters.

They hand Volcanor over to the police. Jack puts the monkey in a cage and hands it over, too. Chances are this dinosaur will have to be put down like the last two, since no one knows where Volcanor keeps the dinosaurs and no one else has a facility that can be guaranteed to keep them safely.

"Look, I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot," Jack says to Bitty as they watch the police manhandle Volcanor into the back of their car. "We did work well together. I'm looking for a—"

"If you utter the word 'sidekick' I will thaw that dinosaur's feet just so it can stomp on you, I swear to God," Bitty says, pointing a finger in Jack's face.

Jack backs away, hands raised. "Hey, hey, I just thought—since you're new—"

"I am new to Samwell, _Captain_ , not new to the mask. I've been doing this since I was sixteen."

"So that's what, like two or three years?" Jack doesn't mean for it to sound snarky, this guy just really doesn't look that old. Bitty's indignant squawk says he was wrong.

"Seriously? I'm twenty-five and I may be new to town but I do _not_ need to be anyone's _sidekick_ again! I did the sidekick thing for four years, thank you very much." Jack opens his mouth to apologize, but before he can, Bitty huffs. "Anyhow, good job on freezing the lava. I guess I'll see you at the next meeting, _Captain_."

There's a slight blur and he's gone.

—

Word gets around quickly, so nobody's surprised when there's a new face at the Samwell Superhero League meeting two weeks later. Jack's told the story several times now; he's almost mastered the art of not showing how annoyed he was with Bitty while also not letting on how he himself was kind of an ass to the guy.

Jack walks into the meeting and sees him immediately—the short blonde guy he'd bickered with at the bookstore before they'd both changed into their costumes. He's chatting with Lardo but glances over when Jack walks in. They both freeze for a second, making awkward eye contact, and then Bitty goes back to his conversation.

There's a platter on the table stacked with what look like mini pies. Jack nudges Shitty and nods toward it.

"New guy brought 'em!" Shitty says enthusiastically, holding up his half-eaten mini pie. "There's apple, cherry, or pecan! It's good shit, man—I think baking must be one of his superpowers."

Jack just grunts. The idea that Bitty is trying to bribe his way into their good graces rubs him the wrong way. But everyone seems to be enjoying their pies, so he sits down at his spot and goes over his notes.

"I think we're all here," Jack announces a few minutes later, after Chris and Caitlin have shown up. "Shall we get started?"

Everyone finds seats around the large meeting table.

"First order of business," Jack says, glancing down at his meeting agenda, "as I'm sure you're all aware by now, we have a new member. Bitty, why don't you tell us about yourself?"

"Oh, um, hi y'all," Bitty says nervously, waving at the group. "I'm Eric, I go by Bitty when I'm behind the mask. Sounds like you've all heard about the job I did with uh… The… Captain…"

"Sorry," Jack says, shaking his head. "Jack. My name's Jack."

"The job I did with Jack a couple weeks back. I just moved up here from Atlanta, Georgia. My main powers are speed and shrinking, plus your typical super strength. I can also freeze things and wield a little bit of fire, but they're not that strong so I only use 'em when I really need to."

"Well, welcome to Samwell," Jack says, trying not to sound too grudging about it since he does have to work with the guy now. "You know me and what I do, so let me introduce everyone else and their main powers." He goes around the table, starting with the person to his right. "This is Larissa or Lardo, known as Artiste. She flies and shoots paint."

"It's more useful than it sounds," Lardo breaks in. Jack nods.

"Next to her are Chris and Cait." They wave at Eric. "They're married. They go by Goalie and Farmer, respectively—Chris can repel pretty much any projectile, and Cait can make plants grow and obey her. Then there's Anthony, or Tango, he can fly and hypnotize or confuse people by asking them questions. Dex is our gadget man—he doesn't go out in the field, just works behind the scenes. He can fix just about any superhero tech, plus he's always inventing new ones for us to try."

"When you activate your costume," Shitty breaks in to ask Eric, "does the mask fold right out of the rest of it? You don't have to carry it around separately anymore?" Eric nods. "That was our Dexy." Shitty grins like a proud father, motioning to Dex.

"Wow," Eric says, seeming suitably impressed.

"After Dex is Derek, or Ephemeron, he can turn invisible."

"But watch out if you're on a job with him," Dex interrupts. "When he can't see his own limbs he's the biggest fucking klutz in the universe." Derek hits him on the arm. Jack rolls his eyes.

"On the other side of you are Justin and then Adam, who go by Ransom and Holster. Ransom has super speed like yours, plus a better-than-photographic memory."

"I can store entire spreadsheets full of data up here," Justin says, tapping his temple.

"And Holster can manifest weapons out of thin air. Then Johnson, or The Narrator. He… _knows things_. About people. He mostly uses it to get inside enemies' heads."

"Like, you're psychic?" Eric asks, and the group lets out a collective sigh.

"Nah," Johnson says easily. "I just primarily exist outside the constraints of this particular narrative. So if the author knows it, I know it. And honestly, since I'm not even gonna have an on-screen battle in this story, my powers are just theoretical anyhow."

"Don't worry about it," Jack says quickly, before Eric's confused look can turn into a barrage of questions none of them will understand the answers to. "None of us really understand his powers. Psychic is close enough. And this is Shitty. Who goes by Shitty."

"Wait, you don't have an alter ego? Isn't that dangerous?" Eric asks.

Shitty shrugs. "I'd suck at having a secret identity, bro."

"He means it wouldn't be as much fun for him," Ransom says. "Dude _loves_ the spotlight."

"Hey, I can do way more good for this city by being the public face of superheroes than I could if I stayed hidden, and you know it," Shitty argues.

" _Anyhow_ ," Jack breaks in, because they don't need to rehash ancient arguments. "He's our Bruce Wayne, more or less, but with super strength and bulletproof skin."

"I came into an inheritance when my dickbag dad died a few years back," Shitty explains. "So that's how we keep Dex supplied with everything he needs to keep _us_ supplied."

"Nice," Eric says. "Is there an Alfred?"

"I fuckin' _told_ you we need an Alfred, bro!" Shitty exclaims, punching Jack in the arm. Jack sighs. He's developing a headache.

"So that's everyone," he says. "We can deal with contact info and everything after the meeting. Okay, next order of business: We have _got_ to find out where Volcanor is keeping these damn dinosaurs."

—

Bitty goes into the regular rotation, and over the next few weeks he proves to be a perfectly competent superhero—with one exception.

"What the fuck was that?" Jack roars at him. "Did you seriously _pass out_ in the middle of a fight? Do you know how fucking lucky we were that we brought four people? If Holster hadn't been here we would've been fucked!"

They've managed to get Vainita on the run, which means she won't be terrorizing this beauty salon tonight, but they didn't capture her. Which, as far as Jack's concerned, means they failed.

"I'm sorry," Bitty says, looking small even though Jack is pretty sure he's at his normal size right now. "I just—I don't do well with physical contact, hand-to-hand combat, things like that. Usually with my speed an' all I can avoid it, but—"

"Are you kidding me?" Jack shouts. "What kind of superhero can't handle hand-to-hand combat?"

"Bro, he was like one of those fainting goats," Holster says behind him.

"You know that shit's genetic?" Ransom replies. Jack grits his teeth.

"We can make a tactical maneuver out of this," Holster says. "Use him as a decoy or something."

Bitty is looking over Jack's shoulder at Ransom and Holster, and he looks like he's about to say something to them but Jack cuts him off.

"This isn't a joke," he growls, getting into Bitty's space, using their size difference to his advantage. "Either get with the program, or turn in your mask."

Then he turns on his heel and marches off, not interested in hearing whatever excuses Bitty might have.

—

"Bro."

Jack sighs and holds the door open for Shitty to come into his apartment.

"Shits, don't look at me like that. You weren't there. He put us all in danger."

Shitty lifts his hands, placating. "I know, man, I know. But which one of you was put in the _most_ danger?"

"What?" Jack flings himself into his favorite armchair. "I don't know." He thinks back on the scene: he'd been flying around, shooting ice at Vainita and her thugs from above, while Holster shot at them with a pair of crossbows. Ransom and Bitty had been speeding around and in between the enemies, grabbing weapons, tripping, and generally causing chaos as they went past. Bitty had stopped for a second, taunting one of the thugs, when another had snuck up behind him. Ransom had shouted a warning, from the other side of the fight, but that just caused Bitty to turn and see the fist coming at him—and he was on the ground before it could even make contact. "I guess Ransom? He was on the ground but didn't have weapons like Holster."

"Sure, but he was still zipping around, right?"

Jack squints at Shitty, who's now sprawled on his couch. "What's your point, Shits?"

"My point is, the person Bitty put in the most danger was _Bitty_. He knows he's vulnerable, he knows if he faints like that at the wrong time he could be in deep shit—captured, even dead—and yet he's never once hesitated to put his mask on and get out there."

"Well, maybe he _should_ hesitate. He's not the only one who could be in deep shit."

"I think that little fucker's a lot stronger and a lot braver than you're giving him credit for, Mon Capitane. He's been an asset to our team up until now and you know it." Jack fumes, trying to ignore the fact that Shitty's right. "And as our ringleader, I think you know that him just quitting isn't what would be best for any of us."

"So what do you think I should do about it?" Jack asks.

"Get him to stop fainting, dumbass."

—

It takes Jack a day or two, but as the initial raw rage fades away he's left with grudging acceptance that Shitty is right. Bitty's clearly good at his job and an asset to the team. He just needs to get over this psychological block.

He puts Bitty on a temporary suspension—not as a punishment, he explains, just so that any progress they make isn't set back by a bad fight. Eric accepts it, with some grumbling.

They meet four mornings a week, and at first Jack wonders if he's wasting his time as Eric drops if Jack so much as approaches him menacingly.

But after only a couple of weeks, he can see real improvement. Where before Eric was fainting as soon as Jack drew a fist back as if to hit him, now he's not fainting until the fist starts to move toward him. It's something.

Jack knows it's demoralizing, not being able to go into the field, but Eric doesn't give up. He shows up every morning, works hard, then when he's not at his day job he comes to HQ to help Dex out, bringing a plethora of baked goods with him.

They're nearly a month in when they start getting coffee together after their morning sessions. It's at one of these coffee runs that Jack finally gets Eric to open up about the source of his problems.

"Well, I had a rough time up until my powers manifested," he confides. "All the kids at school thought I was gay—I mean, they weren't wrong, but obviously they saw that as a bad thing. Me doin' things like baking didn't help any. So I got roughed up a lot, enough that by the time I got my powers when I was fifteen, freakin' out at the sight of a fist was a reflex. And I know it's stupid to still be like that, now that I've got all this strength and speed—"

"It's not stupid," Jack says. "You're not doing it on purpose. Sometimes brains do things you don't want them to do. I have an anxiety disorder, and it's under control but it'll never really go away. I'll always have panic attacks now and then. Look, I owe you an apology. I should have realized from the start that you wouldn't react like that if you had any control over it."

"But you were right," Eric says, directed more at his latte than at Jack. "I was putting the team in danger. If I can't control when it happens, that's even worse. I should've told you about it from the start, but ninety-nine percent of the time I can avoid getting close enough to any of the enemies to worry about it. But that one time in a hundred is a problem for me and everyone I'm working with."

"And because of that I do think that suspending you until we could work on it was the right move," Jack says gently. "But I could've done that without all the yelling and blaming you. I'm sorry."

"Thanks, Jack," Eric murmurs, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. His hair is a little mussed up from the hat he was wearing when they came into the coffee shop, and Jack suddenly has to suppress the urge to reach over and fix it.

"One thing I don't understand, though," Jack says instead. "You've been wearing the mask for nearly a decade, right? And nobody ever thought it was a problem?"

Eric's blush deepens, and he seems to be trying to hide behind his mug. "Well… Like I said, it hardly ever happens to begin with. And I guess up until now… no other heroes happened to be looking, so they all just thought I got knocked out? I'm sure if they ever had, they woulda reacted about how you did, only without the coaching me through it part. Thanks for that, Jack."

Jack frowns. "I'm sure the head of any local superhero league would do the same."

"Maybe," Eric says. "I had some friends there, but some of the other heroes…. didn't like me much. Including Frogman, who heads up the Atlanta League. In fact, he was about the worst. The others weren't necessarily homophobic when it came to gay people in everyday life, they just thought _I_ was a little _too gay_ to be a superhero. Too effeminate, not manly enough." He rolls his eyes. "Frogman, though, he was just a straight-up homophobe. He'd been looking for a reason to get rid of me since I moved up from Madison."

"What the fuck?" Jack realizes he's clutching his coffee a little too hard—not a problem for most people, but with his strength he can feel that the ceramic of his mug is close to giving way. He loosens his grip, but that just leaves him without an adequate outlet for his rage. "Seriously? Eric, you should put in a complaint with the National Council, that's ridiculous! People like that shouldn't be _superheroes_ , what happens when he has to _save_ a gay person?"

"I mean, if I'd done it then, it wouldn't've been hard to figure out who it was, and I _know_ there woulda been retaliation. And I figured, once I moved up here, I should just… put all that behind me…" Eric chews his lip, looking at Jack in a way that makes Jack take a deep breath and try to relax whatever's going on on his face, because apparently it's still pretty stormy. "I moved over three months ago now," he finally says. "You don't think that's too late?"

"No," Jack says forcefully. "I'll back you up if they try to say any different."

"Thanks, Jack," Eric says. The little smile on his face, almost as quiet as his voice, settles something inside of Jack.

—

After another month, Jack declares Eric ready to go out in the field again, though they keep meeting up twice a week to work on it. It's clear their work has paid off two weeks in, when some idiot wannabe-supervillain tries to punch Bitty—Bitty doesn't take the punch, even if it's unlikely the guy could do much damage, but he ducks it by shrinking and does not pass out. Jack isn't there, but Shitty gets on the group text immediately afterward to brag about it on Bitty's behalf and insist the whole team meet them at a nearby bar to celebrate.

By the time Jack gets there, people have bought Eric a couple of drinks. His cheeks are flushed and his smile is more relaxed than usual, a little messy. He flings himself at Jack for a hug as soon as he sees him, and for some reason Jack thinks it would be nice if Eric were always as touchy-feely as Shitty.

Things are going great, in general—until Volcanor escapes from prison _again_.

"You said you could handle him this time!" Jack yells over the phone at the warden.

"I'm sorry," the guy says, but he doesn't sound all that sorry. Jack is about sick of regular law enforcement taking it for granted that supers will clean up all their messes. "We thought the new alloy we used on his bars would stand up to the heat, but it looks like we were wrong."

"Dex," Jack barks as soon as he's off the phone, "your new number one priority is figuring out a material they can use to keep Volcanor restrained that _won't_ be melted by his lava."

Volcanor manages to lay low for a couple of days, but when he does rear his head, it's ugly. Jack, Bitty, Goalie, Farmer, Shitty, Tango, and Artiste all show up to find a scene of absolute chaos—Volcanor on another of his damn dinosaurs, monkeys everywhere, and at least a dozen thugs wreaking havoc at an outdoor music festival.

Given how bad it is when they arrive, the fight goes surprisingly well. Tango starts right in on crowd control, convincing the panicking civilians that what they really want to do is walk calmly but quickly toward the parking lot. Farmer handles the monkeys, somehow knowing exactly the right kind of tree to make spring up in the middle of the park to distract them. Soon they're all swinging from the branches and chattering at each other, any evil bidding they were meant to do forgotten. The dinosaur also likes the trees, stopping to munch some leaves instead of going wherever it is Volcanor is telling it to go.

With the animals out of the way, it's not hard for the rest of them to get the thugs, plus one lava-slinging mastermind, under control. In fact, they're almost finished when it happens.

Jack has just gotten one thug tied up when a movement catches his eye. He looks up just in time to see another thug spring out from behind a tree.

"Bitty!" Jack shouts, but the warning is half a second too late. The thug's bat comes down on the back of Bitty's head, and he crumples to the ground as surely as if he'd fainted.

"You fucker!"

Apparently Jack wasn't the only one who saw what happened, because when the thug spins to see who shouted that at him, he's hit in the face with a stream of purple paint. As the thug staggers away, Jack leaves him for Artiste to deal with, instead rushing to Bitty's side.

He's breathing, at least, and the wave of nausea that hit Jack when he saw Bitty go down subsides. He rolls Bitty onto his side, then backs up and aims his freeze rays just over him. Within a minute, there's a dome of ice surrounding Bitty—not enough to keep him safe if a stream of lava is aimed at him, but enough to keep any stray thugs or monkeys away.

Thankfully, they've got the scene under control within a few more minutes. After Jack freezes Volcanor—his whole damn body, and frankly, no Jack _doesn't_ care if it causes permanent damage because he's fed up with this guy—he looks back to see Bitty pushing himself up to sitting, one hand cradling his head. He looks around and appears to sigh in relief when he sees that they're basically done here—Jack's glad he didn't wake up any earlier, because if he'd tried to rejoin the fight Jack would've had to leave the fight himself to keep him away. Bitty reaches out and touches the ice dome in confusion, but realizes quickly what it is and produces a small flame in his palm to start melting it away.

Jack watches him, relief and worry and something else wrestling in his gut, until he's hit with a sudden realization.

"Oh," he murmurs to himself.

By the time Jack gets over to Bitty, he's made a hole large enough to put his head through so he can sit up properly, but not quite large enough that he can stand up.

"Did you do this?" Bitty asks with a smile that's bordering on a smirk. He continues melting the hole larger, and Jack wishes he could help. But while his freeze rays are a lot stronger than Bitty's, he doesn't have the matching fire powers.

"Ah, yeah," Jack says, feeling suddenly awkward now that he knows where his protective impulse came from. He goes to run a hand through his hair, only to be reminded that it's all still covered by his mask. "I mean, there weren't many villains left by that point, but if any of those monkeys got bored they could've done some damage with you unconscious, eh?"

"Well, thank you, Captain," Bitty says quietly. He's not looking at Jack now, but his smile has turned into something small and fond that makes Jack blush.

When the hole in the ice is large enough, Bitty reaches out his hand and Jack takes it to help him up. He knows he's standing a little too close, that he holds onto Bitty's hand a little too long, but as Bitty's brown eyes stare up at him he can't find it in himself to be sorry.

"We should get you to a hospital," Jack says quietly. Bitty nods, then winces and holds his head again as he steps out of the ice.

Jack steps away, turning to grab the first hero he finds—who happens to be Shitty, watching the two of them far too knowingly for Jack's taste.

"You guys have this under control until the cops get here, right? I'm gonna get Bitty to the hospital."

"Yeah, we got this," Shitty says, clapping Jack on the shoulder. "You take good care of that little fucker."

Jack rolls his eyes at the obvious double meaning Shitty puts into that statement. As he turns back to Bitty, he's thankful that his mask also covers most of his blush.

"I know Mercy is right down the street," he says, "but we have a couple doctors at Samwell General who know us, so I'm gonna take you there. Is that okay?"

"Sure, yeah," Bitty says, holding his head again. "Always easier dealing with doctors who are in on it. So where—"

Maybe Bitty was about to ask where Jack's car is, or where the hospital is. Whatever it was, it's cut off with a gasp as Jack carefully scoops him up in a bridal carry.

Bitty reflexively throws his arms around Jack's neck as Jack takes off.

"Oh my goodness, is this really necessary?" he asks, but the question is tinged with laughter.

Jack smiles down at him and tries not to make it too obvious, how much he likes having Bitty in his arms and Bitty's hands clasped behind his neck.

"Way faster than driving, bud, trust me."

"Well, then. My hero, I suppose."

He holds Bitty's gaze for a moment, cherishing the way Bitty's smile softens as they look at each other. He doesn't look away until a bird whizzes by and reminds him that he needs to watch where they're going.

After a minute, Bitty sighs and rests his head on Jack's shoulder. Jack tells himself not to read too much into it—he's likely got a concussion, might have pulled muscles in his neck; it probably just hurts a lot less than holding it up. Of course, that doesn't mean Jack can't enjoy it while it lasts.

They land in front of the emergency doors at the hospital, and Jack sets Bitty down.

"Unless you'd rather I carry you in," he says, earning a glare from Bitty.

"I'll admit I am a little dizzy but I can walk twenty feet myself, thank you, Captain."

Jack grins and puts an arm around his shoulders to guide him inside—just because he said he's a little dizzy, of course, and might need some help with stability. Bitty doesn't complain.

The nurse behind the desk looks up and her eyes widen. She turns and sticks her head through a door behind her, and isn't nearly as quiet as she's probably trying to be as she hisses, "Janelle! It's the Captain! Yes, for real! I told you they come in here sometimes!"

Jack sighs as they approach the counter. A young woman he assumes is Janelle comes out from the back room and gives him a smile that makes him want to sigh even harder.

"Wow," she says in a very unprofessional tone of voice, "you look so much stronger in person. I hope you coming in here doesn't mean there's a villain of some kind hiding out in the hospital—but I'm sure if there is you'll save me, right?"

"Is Dr. Martin in?" Jack asks shortly. Generally he tries to be friendly to civilians, even women flirting with him when he's in uniform, but this is _the emergency room of a hospital_. She couldn't even be bothered to start by asking what they were there for? He tightens his arm on Bitty's shoulder.

"Dr. Martin?" Janelle blinks at him for a second. He knows it's not normal to walk into an ER and request a particular doctor, but surely this woman has been briefed on the protocols when supers come in?

"If she's not here, Dr. Murray will work."

"Um, I'll—I'll check. Give me just a minute, Mr—uh, Captain?" She looks embarrassed by the time she leaves.

"Sorry," he mutters to Bitty. "Usually they're more competent than this. She must be new."

Bitty just groans a little and puts his head back on Jack's shoulder, which is perfectly fine with Jack. He resists the urge to rest his cheek on Bitty's head, which he thinks is an impressive feat of restraint given that he can feel that soft blonde hair tickling his neck.

Janelle comes back a minute later.

"You're in luck, Dr. Martin is in tonight," she announces cheerfully, only to stop short when she gets to the desk and sees Jack and Bitty. She plasters on a slightly confused-looking smile and asks Jack, "I'm assuming your friend here is the one who's injured?"

"He took a baseball bat to the back of his head," Jack says with a nod. She's still looking at Bitty a little oddly. "When can we get to an exam room? People are starting to stare at us." He hasn't really noticed anyone staring, but he's sure they are. They always are.

"Well, if you'll just have a seat—"

The woman who'd been at the desk earlier pops her head out of the door she'd disappeared behind. "Put them in three," she says. "We try to get superheroes back as quick as possible so they can get into normal clothes. Take his vitals and get the details of the incident, then leave the rest for the doctor."

Janelle nods, then turns to them. "Okay, then, just follow me!"

Bitty picks his head up to follow her into the corridor, but Jack keeps his arm where it is. Janelle keeps glancing at it every time she looks at them.

"So, are you a new superhero?" she eventually asks Bitty. "I don't recognize you."

Bitty starts to nod, then stops abruptly with a wince. "Moved up here from Atlanta a few months back."

"I guess The Captain's really taken you under his wing, huh?" she asks overly-casually as she opens up an exam room for them. "He must be like a big brother to you! That's _so sweet_ of you." The last sentence, of course, is directed at Jack, and in a totally different tone of voice than the rest.

"He, uh, he has been real helpful," Bitty says. Jack lets him go through the door first, but gets an arm back around him as soon as they're both in the room.

"We're close," Jack says, glaring at Janelle, "but I definitely wouldn't describe our relationship as _brothers_."

Bitty looks up at him, confused and a little hurt. Jack pulls him a little closer and the hurt is replaced by surprise, though still mixed with confusion. But he also blushes.

"Um, okay," Janelle says, clearly flustered. "Why don't you sit down and let me get your blood pressure and everything while you tell me what happened?"

"I, um… I'm not sure I remember, actually," Bitty says slowly. "I mean, I remember most of the battle, but I don't remember getting hit, and I'm not sure if I'm missing any time before that or not."

Jack gives a brief description of the blow, which Janelle types into a computer when she's done getting Bitty's vitals.

Finally, she leaves them alone, telling them on her way out that the doctor will be in in a few minutes.

As soon as she's gone, Jack hits the button to transform his costume back into street clothes. Bitty watches, looking dazed. When Jack's back to normal, he stares for another beat before looking down at himself.

"Right, me too," he mutters, and taps his watch. Jack tries not to laugh, but a small snort escapes.

"Hush, you," Eric says with no heat. "Or I'll give Janelle your phone number."

"You wouldn't dare," Jack says with a chuckle.

"Oh my God," Eric says as he lies down on the exam table, "did I ever tell you about Scorpion?"

"Uh." Jack thinks. "I mean, you've mentioned him, but…"

"He's the only superhero I've ever met who actually sleeps with mask chasers like that. Like, he _loves_ it."

"So, what, there are dozens of women in Atlanta who know his secret identity?" Jack asks, frowning. "That definitely does not seem worth it."

"Oh, no," Eric says. "According to him, he leaves his damn mask on. And his is one of the all-over kind, like yours."

"He—" Jack grimaces. "What? These women are willing to sleep with him while he's wearing… basically a colorful ski mask? What the fuck?"

"Don't ask me," Eric says. "I would personally find that creepy as all get-out. And he's not even that attractive, honestly—I mean, I guess the mask works in his favor there." Jack snorts, and Eric looks over at him. "Actually, until you, most of the heroes I've known who wore that style mask had a reason for it, even if they wouldn't admit it. You ever think of switching to something that would show off those cheekbones of yours?"

Jack's face heats. He opens his mouth to reply, but before he can say anything there's a knock and the exam room door opens. Which is just as well, since the unexpected flirtation has fried a brain cell or two and he doesn't actually know what to say.

Dr. Martin comes in and shakes Jack's hand first. "Good to see you, Jack, especially all in one piece," she says, then turns to Eric, who pushes himself back up to sitting. "And you must be the new guy. You've been in town, what, four, five months now? I'm impressed that I haven't met you before."

"Eric Bittle, nice to meet you, ma'am," Eric says, shaking her hand.

"First off, have you seen a doctor under that name here in Samwell, so we can get your records?"

"No, ma'am, not yet."

"Okay, well, I'll send you home with some paperwork so you can get your records sent from your last doctor back in Atlanta. But I have a feeling you're not in any shape to fill them out right at the moment. I take it you're not impervious, no super fast healing or anything?" she asks as she checks his pupils.

"I heal up a bit faster than usual," Eric tells her, "but not fast enough. I broke my arm a couple years back and I was only in a cast for a couple weeks."

"Not bad," Dr. Martin says, nodding. "But definitely not fast enough to ward off a concussion with a head injury like that. With any luck, it means you'll only be out of commission for a few days, though."

Jack sits quietly as Dr. Martin runs Eric through a standard battery of tests. About halfway through, he realizes that maybe it's weird for him to be in the exam room for this. It made sense for him to come back with Eric so that he could change out of his costume, but maybe he should've gone back out to the waiting are after that? But then, with something like a head injury, it's not so weird to have a friend there. Eric is probably in no condition to remember everything Dr. Martin tells him.

At any rate, neither Eric nor Dr. Martin has said anything to indicate he's not welcome, so he figures it'd be weirder to leave in the middle of the exam.

"Since you were unconscious for a bit, I'd like to do a CT scan just to make sure there's no bleeding or swelling going on in there. Chances are, your symptoms would be worse if there were, but better safe than sorry."

She quickly ushers them to a different exam room—standard procedure so it's not _too_ obvious that they're the people who came out of the room the superheroes went in—and hands Eric a gown.

"A radiology tech will be in to get you in a few minutes. Jack, you're welcome to stay with him, other than going into the actual CT room, or you can head out to the waiting area, whatever works best." She flashes them a quick smile and is gone, acting like she hasn't just tossed Jack into a pit of embarrassment by pointing out his continued unnecessary presence.

"I'm assuming you want some privacy—" he starts, nodding toward the door.

"Actually—" Eric lays a hand on his arm. "Could you—I mean, you can turn around while I change, but—I just—" Tears well up in his eyes, and he presses his lips together in an obvious effort not to cry. It's all Jack can do not to wrap Eric up in his arms. "I'm sorry, I know concussions can make you get emotional, so I shouldn't feel stupid for crying, but I do."

"No, no," Jack says. He doesn't wrap Eric up, but he comes closer and puts a hand on his shoulder. "I can stay if you want, it's fine. A head injury's a scary prospect, even if you know you'll heal faster than most people."

Eric closes his eyes and nods a little, sniffling. "And I've never lived this far from my family before, and you guys are pretty much my only friends in Samwell…"

"It sounds like things weren't great in Atlanta," Jack says carefully, "but you know we're more like a family here. We take care of each other. I've got your back."

Eric nods and wipes the tears from his face. "Thanks, Jack. It'd just be nice to not be alone."

Jack squeezes his shoulder, then turns around to let him change clothes in peace.

The CT scan, thankfully, shows no bleeding or swelling, so Dr. Martin diagnoses Eric with a severe concussion due to the loss of consciousness, "though with your healing it'll probably act more like a mild-to-moderate one." After she goes over the standard procedure—ice, Tylenol, rest, etc—she looks at Jack.

"Can you stay with him tonight? Or get one of the other superheroes to? You don't have to wake him up every few hours, but there should be someone around to get help in case his symptoms worsen."

Jack nods. "Yeah, no problem. I was planning on it."

Eric blushes, but doesn't say anything.

They leave the hospital separately, to make it even less likely people will associate them with the two superheroes who came in together. Jack walks out the door a few minutes after Eric, then sits down next to him on the bench outside.

"Do you mind if I stay with you?" he asks. He hopes the answer is no, but if Eric would be more comfortable with Shitty or Lardo or someone he'll deal. "Or you could stay at my place, but you probably want your own bed tonight."

Eric nods, then winces like he's been doing almost every time he nods. "You comin' over is fine, if it's not too much trouble. Guess you're not flying me there now, huh?"

Jack shakes his head, smiling. "I texted Shitty while you were in getting your scan. He and Lardo dropped my car off a bit ago, we should be fine to drive."

"Sounds good," Eric says. "Probably stop and pick up some clothes at your place first I guess?"

He goes to stand up and wobbles a bit, and Jack shoots up to steady him. "Yeah, just real quick," he says, and wraps his arm around Eric's shoulder like he did before. This time, wanting to make sure Eric is walking steadily isn't even a pretext.

They pick up some food on the way to Eric's apartment, which it turns out isn't very far from Jack's. Jack tries not to think about how easy it would be to walk there whenever he wants… to walk home the next morning…

"You're sure your stomach is up for this?" Jack asks as he portions out some Chinese takeout onto plates. "No nausea?"

"I mean, a little," Eric says with a shrug, "but I think hunger's actually making it worse at this point. I haven't eaten since breakfast—I was about to have a late lunch when Volcanor started his shit."

They settle in on Eric's couch. His apartment is small, but cozy. It seems like every shelf and wall is filled with photos of Eric's family, his friends back in Georgia—and to Jack's surprise, he's already got quite a few with the Samwell crew. He remembers Eric taking the one of him, Lardo, and Shitty when they all went to dinner together a couple of weeks ago, but it hadn't occurred to Jack that he might print it out and frame it.

"Well, let's find out if the TV makes my headache any worse," Eric mutters, grabbing the remote. "I wonder how I turn the brightness down…"

They wind up watching some baking show, brightness and volume turned low enough that Jack isn't sure what's going on half the time, but he's not going to complain. Not when they start out with a foot of space between them, eating their takeout, but end up an hour later with Eric's head in his lap, Jack holding the ice pack to it while the fingers of his other hand run rhythmically through soft hair.

Eventually, Jack looks at his watch to see that it's after eleven. He has to admit that Eric needs a good night's sleep, so when the next episode ends he takes the remote out of Eric's hand and pauses it.

"You need to get to bed," he says quietly, still stroking Eric's hair.

Eric sighs and sits up slowly. "I suppose so," he says as he stretches his arms over his head. "I texted my boss to let her know I won't be in tomorrow, but even if I get to sleep in I shouldn't stay up. Let me get you some bedding for this couch."

He stands up and starts to grab their plates, but Jack gets them first. "I'll deal with these," he says. "You get me some sheets." Eric looks like he's about to protest, but then he puts his hand to his head like he's been hit by another dizzy spell and just nods.

Jack washes the plates and forks and puts the extra food away in the refrigerator. By the time he's done, Eric is coming back into the living room, arms piled high with pillows and sheets and blankets.

When he dumps them on the couch, he reveals that he has also changed into his pajamas. Said pajamas consist of an old, worn t-shirt with an Atlanta Thrashers logo on it… and a pair of shorts that he must have had since he was in the sixth grade, given how tiny they are. They pull tight enough across the front that the outline leaves nothing to the imagination, and when he turns his back they barely manage to cover him. He bustles about, spreading a sheet over the couch as if he weren't making Jack's brain short out every time he bends down to tuck in a corner.

"I'm gonna… go get changed. And stuff," Jack chokes out. As he slings his backpack over a shoulder, Eric looks over his own shoulder at him. Jack hastily pretends he was _not_ staring at his concussed host's ass.

"Okay, sweetheart. I'll have this set up by the time you're done." The smile Eric flashes makes Jack wonder if maybe he knows exactly what he's doing.

In the bathroom, Jack splashes cold water over his face before changing into pajamas and brushing his teeth. It doesn't matter right now if he's attracted to Eric, it doesn't matter if he wants to ask Eric out. It doesn't even matter if Eric would say yes. Eric just received a blow to the head and, while he certainly seems to be in his right mind for consent purposes, he's vulnerable and Jack is here to care for him, not hit on him. There will be plenty of time for that later.

—

Jack sleeps surprisingly well on Eric's couch, for all that it's a few inches too short for him to stretch out fully. He wakes up the next morning to the smell of coffee and bacon. He sits up blearily and can see Eric moving around the kitchen through the pass-through.

"Should you be cooking?" he asks, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

Eric shoots him a look over his shoulder. "Good morning. I'll forgive you for asking that because you're not fully awake yet. It's just scrambled eggs and bacon, I could make this in my sleep, let alone mildly concussed."

"Severely concussed," Jack corrects him. "How are you feeling?"

Eric sighs. "My head still hurts, but no worse than last night. I took some Tylenol when I got up, hasn't kicked in yet. I still get a mite dizzy now and then, but nothing terrible."

Jack frowns. "Don't fall on the stove, or stumble and spill hot bacon grease on yourself."

"Not dizzy enough to fall over. You've seen me, it just gets a little…" He swirls one hand around vaguely. "Spinny, now and then. Just for a few seconds."

Jack still isn't totally convinced he should be cooking, but goes to pee and brush his teeth before making any further arguments.

When he gets back and steps into the kitchen, any thought of arguing is chased from his mind by the fact that Eric is still. Wearing. Those. Shorts. And now he's shaking his hips in time to some song he started playing on his phone while Jack was in the bathroom.

This time he tears his eyes away _before_ Eric looks his way, thank goodness for small blessings. Jack steps up next to him at the stove.

"This smells amazing," he says. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Maybe pour us each a cup of coffee? Cream and two sugars in mine. Then grab some silverware from that drawer, and napkins over there, and get it all over to the table? This'll be ready in just another minute."

Jack does as he's told, only sneaking a few more glances at Eric's backside as he does. By the time he's done, Eric is doling out eggs and bacon onto two plates, so Jack has a seat as he carries the plates over.

The breakfast is delicious, and the conversation is easy. They've spent so much time together over the past few months, Jack is as comfortable with him as he is with friends he's known for years. He's not sure when he started developing a crush on Eric, but he's pretty sure it wasn't a sudden thing. Now that he's realized it, it feels like it's been a long time coming—he doesn't feel any _different_ , it's just that the way he feels makes more sense now. He feels kind of silly for not figuring it out sooner.

He helps clean up again, and as he closes the dishwasher, Eric comes up beside him.

"I just wanted to thank you again, Jack," he says. He's standing close enough that his head is tipped back to look Jack in the eye. "For taking care of me."

"You're the one who just made me breakfast," Jack points out. "I haven't really done much of anything."

A small smile quirks Eric's mouth. "Of course you have," he says. "I mean, first you made that ice dome over me so I didn't get attacked while I was knocked out. Then you took me to the hospital and stayed with me through it. That would've been enough. But you kept me company last night, too." The smile changes a little, his head tilting just so. "Kept me comfortable. Helped me ice my head."

Jack blushes, but he also steps a little closer. "I'm just glad you're not hurt worse."

"Me, too," Eric says. "But if I were, I know you'd help me get through it." It's not flirtatious, not cheesy like Janelle's _you'll save me, right?_ That sincerity is what makes up Jack's mind—because he would help Eric through anything, and he wants to be there for him through whatever might happen.

He slides one hand onto Eric's waist, and Eric steps a little closer. Jack swallows, his eyes flickering down to Eric's plush lips and back. Eric tips his head up just a little more, and Jack tilts his down. He pauses as their noses brush, just long enough to make sure Eric can pull away if he wants to.

He doesn't, though, just presses closer, and Jack's eyes fall closed as their lips meet. They trade a few sweet, chaste kisses, and then Jack feels Eric's lips part beneath his and he takes the invitation to deepen the kiss. Eric wraps his arms around Jack's neck and Jack pulls him closer, closer, until they're pressed together from head to toe. Eric's compact, muscular body is so warm against his, firm under his hands as Jack slides them across Eric's back.

After a few minutes, though, Eric pulls back, grimacing and making a small, pained noise. He leans his forehead on Jack's shoulder.

"Lord, I _really_ wish my head didn't hurt so bad right now," he says. Jack gives him a squeeze and kisses his hair.

"It won't last forever," Jack assures him quietly. "And when you're feeling better, I'll still be here, and I'll still want to be with you."

Eric squeezes him back, nuzzling in so his face is buried in Jack's neck. Having him so close is the best thing Jack has felt in a long, long time.

"So you really do want this?" He picks his head up and look at Jack, and though he's smirking there's a bit of a squint to his eyes that tells Jack he's still in pain. "It's not just a pity hookup?"

Jack smiles and kisses him again, gently, his thumb tracing along Eric's sharp jawline. "Never. Although…" Jack pulls him close again. "If I weren't already interested, I'd almost think you were angling for a pity hookup with those shorts."

Eric's smile turns wicked. "Well," he says, "no harm in making sure you know exactly what you could be missing out on, is there?"

"Oh, I'm well aware," Jack says. He's about to kiss Eric some more, but Eric pulls away with a sigh.

"Unfortunately," he says, taking Jack's hands in his, "at the moment I think what I really need is for you to help me shower—and not the fun kind of help, the make-sure-I-don't-fall-and-whack-my-head-again kind. I mean, I don't think I will, but I've been having enough of those little dizzy spells, I think I'd feel better if you were just there to grab me if I did."

"I can do that," Jack says, and kisses Eric's forehead. "I played hockey for years, I can handle myself while hot guys are showering."

"Believe me," Eric says, eyebrow raised, "I'd rather you were handling me."

Jack groans and closes his eyes. "Okay, enough of that talk until you're feeling better."

Eric laughs and leads him to the bathroom, hand in hand. Jack can't take his eyes off him. He has a feeling he's going to fall in love with this man, fast and hard. Luckily, Eric is strong and brave and has saved countless lives—if he falls, Jack trusts Eric to catch him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Find me on [Tumblr](http://porcupine-girl.tumblr.com), [Twitter](https://twitter.com/PorcupineGirl8), or [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/PorcupineGirl)!


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